


Nothing and No One

by andabatae



Series: One-Shots and Drabbles [14]
Category: Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Smut, Canon Compliant, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Kylo Ren is a Mess, Loss of Virginity, Post-TLJ, Smut, Virgin Kylo Ren, Virgin Rey (Star Wars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 14:07:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20508254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andabatae/pseuds/andabatae
Summary: After Crait, Kylo Ren is a broken man: lonely, depressed, furious. Any dream of human connection died when Rey left him.He's used to being alone, though. No one has ever wanted him. No one has ever chosen him. Some monsters are destined for darkness.But one day, the Force bond flickers back to life, and Kylo is confronted with the most terrifying emotion of all:Hope.





	Nothing and No One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SpaceWaffleHouseTM](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceWaffleHouseTM/gifts).

> A gift from the Thirst Order for Waffles, everyone's favorite Reysistance/Cryber hybrid. I tried my hand at some angsty smut for you. Hope you like it!
> 
> TW for some suicide-by-Rey thoughts on Kylo's end in the front half of the piece.

_From childhood’s hour I have not been_  
_ As others were—I have not seen_  
_ As others saw—I could not bring_  
_ My passions from a common spring—_  
_ From the same source I have not taken_  
_ My sorrow—I could not awaken_  
_ My heart to joy at the same tone—_  
_ And all I lov’d—I lov’d alone—_  
_ Then—in my childhood—in the dawn_  
_ Of a most stormy life—was drawn_  
_ From ev’ry depth of good and ill_  
_ The mystery which binds me still—_  
_ From the torrent, or the fountain—_  
_ From the red cliff of the mountain—_  
_ From the sun that ’round me roll’d_  
_ In its autumn tint of gold—_  
_ From the lightning in the sky_  
_ As it pass’d me flying by—_  
_ From the thunder, and the storm—_  
_ And the cloud that took the form_  
_ (When the rest of Heaven was blue)_  
_ Of a demon in my view—_

_ \------- _

_Ben Solo_.

The child hates the name, even as he embraces its darker meaning. To be solo is to be alone, which is something he knows well.

He's well aware of his freakishness. Unnatural anger, unnatural tantrums, unnatural powers, unnatural, unnatural, unnatural. The adults around him seem so sure of what is natural and normal and _ right_, and who is he to deny their whispers?

Ben knows he’s done wrong, countless times over. Even if he can’t pinpoint the moment any particular encounter turned into a crime, he’s received enough lectures to know his actions are, invariably, wrong.

At six years old, a boy taunted him. It ended with the boy sprawled on the floor with a bleeding lip.

That was wrong.

At age seven, a gang of children threw stones and mocked Ben’s ears and voice and face and personality. It ended with them flung in every direction like chaff on the wind.

That was wrong.

At age nine, Ben’s father slammed his fist on the table. “Damn it, why can’t you just be normal?” The shouting match ended with a fire that nearly burned the entire house down.

That was wrong.

At age ten, Ben is used to being a failure. Used to being wrong. Used to a darkness that coils around his dreams and whispers hateful things in his ear. The voice in his head spits poison, but after years of Ben never being good enough, that voice is the first to tell him his life might mean something.

_ You were meant to rule the galaxy… _

_ Your parents don’t understand you… _

_ No one will ever understand you but me… _

_ You will never be powerful unless you accept your rage… _

Rage is a familiar emotion for Ben Solo, even if he doesn’t know how to channel it. So at age ten, he breaks more things, and his parents act confused and judgmental, and Ben sinks deeper into his own darkness.

At age thirteen, the voice in Ben’s head tells him its name. It’s just a whisper of an identity, but it comes with unconditional acceptance. This is the only being who will ever understand Ben, the only one who will never abandon him.

_ Snoke. _

\-------

Two decades later, Kylo Ren finally understands that Snoke’s promise was a lie.

The realization comes later than it should have. Kylo should have realized the truth while staring at Snoke’s severed corpse in the throne room, but he was distracted by the fight and Rey and the confusing specter of the future. The vision in his head told him Rey would choose Kylo once Snoke was dead… but she didn’t.

In retrospect, it makes sense. No one has ever chosen him, no matter what name he goes by.

_ Kylo Ren, Supreme Leader of the First Order. _

It’s the sort of title he imagined during childish play, the kind of name that might make his parents respect him. Love him. Value him.

Now he’s slain one parent and is on the opposite side of a war from the other. He should have known no title would make Han Solo or Leia Organa value him. Their love is—_was_—reserved for rarer creatures. People like Rey, who never struggle with doubt.

Kylo understands. Rey is like a star, and he, too, is a planet in her orbit. True to pattern, though, she discarded him.

So many people have abandoned Kylo, but he tells himself he doesn’t need their approval, just like he didn’t need Snoke’s. Late at night, though, he goes on drunken rampages through the Finalizer, flailing at ghosts.

“Why?” he screams, his saber spitting red as he hacks through a console. “Why?” His voice breaks, but no one is there to hear. No one is ever there.

_ Kylo Ren, Supreme Leader of the First Order. _

He would ask if it was worth it, but he already knows the answer.

\-------

For the first time in months, the air goes heavy and still while the Force crackles with possibility.

Kylo doesn’t believe in possibility anymore. He lies on his side in bed, staring at the wall. Exhaustion and grief are heavy blankets weighing him down; he can’t even remember the last time he left his quarters. Hux will probably attempt to assassinate him soon, but Kylo can’t bring himself to care.

Tremors of the Force wash over him, and Kylo finds himself hoping Rey will kill him. He doesn’t know if the Force bond will allow it, but considering the fact he touched her fingers—_don’t think about that don’t don’t_—she can probably strike him down if she wants to.

“Ben?” her voice is soft and uncertain.

He doesn’t move. “Just do it.” His own voice comes out cracked and broken. He hasn’t spoken for days except to scream.

“Do what?”

“Kill me.” A thought strikes him, and he rolls over to face her. As always, the sight of her hits him like a punch to the gut. She’s so radiant it hurts to look at her, a vision of tan skin and white fabric. She’s sweating a little; maybe she's been exercising.

He blinks and forces his dry mouth to form words again. “Do it the way I killed Han.” He sits up, readying to stand, but the movement makes black specks dance across his vision, and he’s too dizzy to make it to his feet. He hasn't been eating.

She blinks rapidly. “What?”

“Ignite your saber through my chest. Do it.” It’s clipped to her belt; this could be over in less than ten seconds. He remembers the red haze of his own blade, his father’s anguished face, the feeling of having finally stepped past the point of no return… and then the realization that there was no peace to be found on the other side of that invisible line, just fresh torment.

Rey won’t feel torment if she does this. It will be like putting down a rabid animal.

“Ben, no.” She steps towards him, her hand lifting gingerly towards his face. He flinches, and she stops with her fingers hovering scant inches away from his cheek. “What’s happened to you?”

He makes an ugly croaking sound that could have been a laugh, if he remembered how. It’s been years and years since he laughed. “You happened to me.”

Her hand falls to her side, and her forehead creases with irritation. “Is this because I didn’t stay with you on the Supremacy? Because I told you, my friends needed me. If you weren’t going to call off the attack, I had to go to them.”

“Yes,” he says. “And no.” It’s hard to form words, hard to explain the black, seeping wound that is his heart.

“Ben.” She says his name like a command this time, and he shudders. He really should tell her to stop using that dead name, property of a long-dead boy, but he can’t bring himself to do it. “Stop being cryptic. Tell me what’s going on. General Hux has been making all your speeches these last few weeks, and now I find you sulking in bed—”

A flare of outrage finally penetrates the malaise. “I am not _ sulking_.”

“What word would you prefer? Brooding? Moping?” She’s always so blunt, and Kylo’s irritation wars with gratitude that someone still speaks to him like a human being, rather than a monster or a god.

“Of the options you’ve presented, brooding is the best,” he says through clenched teeth, “but I didn’t ask you to come here and insult me.”

“Technically, you didn’t ask me to come at all.”

“Then why are you here?”

She shifts from foot to foot, looking earnest, always so earnest. Rey flings herself at life with honest passion, expecting the universe to respond to her brand of reckless idealism. “I’ve been worried about you."

Kylo’s mangled heart _ aches_. Seeing her is like the sweetest poison. He drinks her in and drinks her in and never wants to stop, even though he knows the moment she vanishes, he’ll be plunged into a pit so deep and dark, he might never climb out.

He has to swallow a few times before he can manage to get words out. “You don’t mean that.”

“Ben.” She steps closer, and then, to his shock, sits next to him. “I mean it.”

“Are you in your bedroom?” he asks, curious if, somewhere across the galaxy, the two of them are sitting on her bed, too.

“Yes.” Her hand flutters up like a leaf seized by the wind, then comes to rest on his shoulder. He holds his breath, afraid to move in case it startles her into withdrawing her touch. “I really have been worried. I can still feel you, you know. This… whatever this is, I feel it late at night, when I’m trying to sleep. You’re hurting.”

“I’m always hurting.”

“I know,” she whispers. “I want to make it stop.”

Her eyes fill with tears. Kylo can’t help reaching up to brush away the first drop to streak down her cheek. “Don’t cry for me, angel.” The endearment tumbles out of his mouth without thought. “I’m not worth your tears.”

“You are,” she says, pressing her cheek into his palm. She lifts her free hand to hold him there, although the idea that Kylo would reject her touch is ludicrous. “I know there’s light in you. I felt it when we touched hands. I felt it when you freed me from Snoke.”

He snorts, although he leans harder into her touch. “And yet you rejected me. You left me. Just like everyone else.”

“You were killing my friends. You wanted me to rule the galaxy with you. I couldn’t say yes.”

He squeezes his eyes shut as fresh pain lances his chest. “Did you realize what I was asking, Rey?” The question is almost inaudible. “When I asked you to join me?”

“Look at me.”

Unable to deny her, he opens his eyes, surprised to find his vision is wet and blurry.

“I’m not sure,” she says slowly. “I’ve thought about it a lot. Sometimes… I think you just wanted a strong Force user to help you keep order. That you wanted an apprentice.”

A pained noise bursts from his throat. “That’s what you think of me?”

She cups his cheeks, forcing him to keep facing her. He mirrors her, slipping his free hand up to the side of her face. They’re intertwined now, only inches apart, holding each other like two castaways clinging to the wreckage of a life that could have been. Her watery hazel eyes are mesmerizing. Kylo wouldn’t mind drowning in them.

“Sometimes I tell myself it was something else,” she whispers. “Sometimes… I convince myself you wanted me for me, not for my Force abilities.”

“I did. I do.” The confession claws its way out of him, slicing open all the half-healed wounds earned when she left him.

Rey lets out a little hiccuping sob. “You told me I was nothing.”

“But not to me.”

The sob becomes a wet chuckle. “That’s not how compliments work, Ben. You can’t say something cruel and then offer a half-hearted caveat.”

“Half-hearted? Half... ” He blows out a frustrated breath, forces his reflexive outrage down. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean you were unimportant. It was more like… you came from nothing, while I came from everything. But our backgrounds don’t matter, not when we have each other.”

More tears streak down her cheeks. “Then why didn’t you just say that, you big oaf?”

“Rey, do you know the last time someone treated me like a person? Maybe never.” He makes that rusty, croaking sound again. “I’ve been a monster since birth, in one way or another. I don’t… I don’t know how to do this.” His fingers tremble on her face.

“Do what?”

“Talk to you. Offer you…” He breaks off. “Fuck. You’ve never wanted anything I’ve offered, anyway.”

“Maybe,” she says, leaning closer, “I didn’t realize exactly what you were offering. Maybe you should try again.”

His heart is racing so fast he might pass out. He feels nauseated. “I can’t. If you leave again… and you will leave, Rey, everyone always leaves. I’ll blink and you’ll be gone, and this time I won’t be able to take it.” Her outline blurs as his eyes give up more useless tears. He knows from a lifetime of bitter experience that crying won’t do anything but make him feel pathetic. It didn’t stop his childhood nightmares. It didn’t stop Han and Leia from abandoning him. It didn’t stop Luke’s judgment. It didn’t stop Snoke from torturing him.

It didn’t make Rey stay last time. It won’t this time.

“The bond between us is going to close, that’s true. But that doesn’t mean I’ll be gone.” She’s crying in earnest now. “Let me in, Ben. Let the light in. Let me come for you. Let me _ help _ you.”

“Nothing can help me,” he whispers, but _ oh_, how he wishes she could. “And I’m not worth the effort.”

In response, Rey leans in and kisses him.

He can’t fathom what’s happening at first. Her lips are pressed to his, soft and tasting of salt from her tears. She moves them gently, like the flutter of a butterfly’s wings.

Why is she kissing him?

Her kisses grow more confident, and slowly, Kylo opens to her, like a flower blooming at the first promise of spring. It’s everything he’s imagined and more, and because of that, he’s terrified it’s a trick. A hallucination. One of Snoke’s mind games, showing him his deepest desire just to snatch it away.

“Is this real?” he asks hoarsely when she breaks away to look at him.

She stops cupping his face, and a thrill of terror goes through Kylo at the thought of her retreating, but then she grips his wrists and tugs his hands down to settle at her waist. Unbelievably, she crawls on top of him, kneeling over his lap and lacing her arms around his neck.

He can’t breathe. Rey’s in his lap, strong and lithe and warm. A blaze of light, the sun his soul revolves around.

“It’s real,” she says. “If this is what you want. If this is what you were offering.”

He makes a choked sound. “It was. I was offering myself to you, Rey.”

“Not the galaxy?” She looks at him with anxious hope. “Not a position in the First Order?”

“I didn’t think you would say yes if all I had to offer was me.” He’s never been enough on his own, not once in his miserable life.

“You’re the only part of that deal I wanted.” She kisses him again, lips caressing his for a sweet instant before she pulls back. “I still want you. But you need to know—I can’t be with you while you’re still with the First Order.”

His chest and throat constrict with panic. “Rey… without the First Order, I’m no one.” Just a scarred, maddened beast.

Her lips curved gently. “And I’m nothing. So let’s be no one and nothing together. Leave it all behind. Start something new.”

It’s terrifying how much he wants that. She can’t mean it, though. And even if she means it right now, when she eventually comes to her senses and abandons him, he’ll have thrown away the only thing that gives him worth.

“I have nothing to offer,” he says. His lips tingle from her kisses. “I’m broken. Fundamentally flawed.” The wrong type of son, the wrong type of Force user, and now, even the wrong type of tyrant. He’s as bad at ruling the galaxy as he was good at conquering it.

Rey’s expression turns fierce. “You aren’t broken. There’s nothing wrong with you, other than some of your choices.”

“You just want to believe that. You don’t really know—”

“Shut up,” she snarls, then leans in to deliver a bruising kiss. Kylo startles at the rough contact, then moans, a deep, needy whine. He clutches her closer, unable to help himself. She’s here, touching him, _ kissing _ him, and he never wants to let her go. He wants to shackle her to him so she can never escape, but he knows neither of them would be happy with that kind of bond. Rey wants to give of herself freely, and Kylo…

Kylo wants someone to choose him for the first time in his life.

Rey breaks away from the kiss. Her rapid breaths puff against his lips. “I want you. Just as you are.”

“Rey.” His voice breaks on her name. Fitting, since his soul and heart have broken on her, too.

“Do you want me?” she asks, blunt and straightforward as ever.

“More than anything.” And it’s true. He wants Rey more than power, more than the First Order. If he could belong to her, _matter_ to her, he thinks he would never want anything ever again.

“Then leave the First Order. Come to me. _ Trust _ me.”

His moan this time is born half of fear. “I want to. So badly. But if you change your mind...”

“I won’t.” She delves her fingers into his hair, stroking along his scalp. It feels unbelievably good. “Be brave, Ben. Give this a chance. Give me a chance. Please.”

The ‘please’ undoes him. Whatever Rey asks for, he wants to give. He finds himself nodding, and Rey grins, bright as the sun. Then she’s on him again, kissing him with desperate need. Kylo returns her passion and then some. Now that the decision is made, he feels a thousand times lighter. The black, roiling grief blows away like storm clouds on a strong wind, leaving only desire.

He rolls them over until they’re lying full-length on his bed—or her bed, their beds, whatever. She spreads her knees, giving him space to settle. It’s paradise, being pressed against her. Her skin is soft, and her muscles flex as she moves against him restlessly.

Kylo lets loose. He devours her like an animal, licking and sucking, nipping at her soft lips and the line of her jaw. He sucks a bruise into her neck, and she gasps and tugs him closer, craning her neck to give him better access. Her skin tastes hot and sweet, her fundamental flavor graced with salty notes from her earlier exercise.

“Don’t leave,” he begs as he strips off the linens covering her torso, revealing a simple sleeveless top beneath.

“I won’t.” She scrabbles at his tunic, trying to open it, but the clasps are hidden, so Kylo kneels upright to strip the garment off. Rey takes advantage of the moment to remove her shirt and leggings, revealing small, beautiful breasts and a white scrap of underwear.

Kylo gapes at her, so mesmerized by her rosy nipples and the soft curve of her breasts that it takes him four tries to get the tunic off over his head, one of which involves him punching his own nose. At last, his chest is as bare as hers.

Rey sits up and runs her fingers over his bare skin. “I remember this,” she says as she charts the curving scar over his pectoral, then explores his ridged abdomen. “The first time I saw you like this. I wanted to touch you even then.”

He makes a strangled sound as she starts working on the fastenings of his pants. His hands are shaking, but he does his best to help her, and then, because he can’t stand to have anything between them anymore, he rips off his pants and underwear before attacking hers. The white fabric splits under his clumsy, too-eager grip, but his mission is accomplished. She’s bare before him, a vision of tan skin and freckles. He trails the back of his fingers down her taut stomach, not wanting to scrape her delicate skin with his callouses. He doesn’t dare touch her breasts or reach between her legs yet, but he touches what he can, admiring the rest with his eyes.

Rey lays back down, then grabs one of his hands and drags it up to cover her breast. He groans at the feel of that delicate mound. Her flesh is soft and giving, and her nipple juts against his palm. He squeezes once, gently, then harder after she pushes up into his grip.

“More,” she begs, her body rolling like a wave. She’s an angel against his black sheets, a golden promise of paradise.

Kylo pinches her nipple, then lowers his head to her other breast, exploring the soft slope with his lips. He licks around her nipple before sucking it into his mouth, and she makes a sweet, strangled cry.

He explores her breasts for as long as she’ll let him, worshipping her with his mouth and hands. Soon, though, she’s shifting impatiently, thrusting her hips up. “More,” she says again. “Please.”

This ‘please’ pools like honey in his lower abdomen. He’s incredibly hard, and as he kisses his way down her body, the tip of his erection drags over her skin, leaving a trail of precum behind. He moans at the stimulation, then wonders how he’s going to survive her touching him—assuming she wants to, that is.

He settles between her thighs. Kylo has never touched a woman before, but he’s watched a lot of pornographic holos. Less since he met Rey, since imagining her turns him on harder than anything he's ever watched, but he’s seen enough to know basic technique. He sifts through her crisp pubic hair, spreading her lower lips so he can look at her.

The breath leaves him in a rush. “Gorgeous,” he says, trailing his fingers over her wet pink folds. She’s so soft here, and the scent of her is a rich musk in his nostrils. His heart races at the thought of touching her, kissing her, making her come.

A sense of urgency still drives him. The Force bond could close at any moment, and he needs to experience all of her before it does. Even if it’s the only time he ever touches her, even if he never recovers from losing her, he needs it. So he dives down and licks up her center, gathering her wetness on his tongue. She gasps and plunges her hands into his hair, looking down at him in shock. He meets her eyes, smirks, then dedicates himself to tasting every last inch of her.

Her flavor is tart and sweet, and he didn't know what to expect from this act, but he quickly realizes he loves it. She’s a delight to explore, so responsive as he learns what makes her go wild. She shivers when he swirls his tongue over her, groans when he sticks the tip inside as far as he can, and shrieks when he circles the bud at the apex of her sex. He focuses his attention there, working her clit with lips and tongue, and, in a moment of genius, attempting to suck it. Her response is noisy and nearly violent; she bucks and twists so hard he has to pin her down.

“So good,” she moans. “I love it.”

He thrills at those three words. _ I love it_. Maybe someday… but no, that’s too much to hope. Rey might want him, and she might be willing to make some sort of a relationship work, but love is more than a monster should ever expect.

The twinge of melancholy he feels at that thought vanishes quickly. It’s hard to hang on to any dark feelings when she’s naked and writhing under his tongue. He slides his fingers through her folds, then slips one inside, gasping as her body clenches around him. She’s so tight; how can he possibly fit?

Rey’s going out of her mind, so Kylo dares to slide a second finger inside. To his amazement, she stretches, accommodating both fingers, although her silky inner walls squeeze him tightly.

Rey whimpers and tugs on his hair, so he returns his attention to sucking her clit. He pumps his fingers gently but steadily as he does, marveling at how slick she is. He imagines this soft, wet channel squeezing his dick... then promptly has to stop imagining it so he doesn’t come all over his bedsheets.

Rey jerks upright, pinning his face to her as she bucks and spasms. Her inner walls clamp and shiver, and she makes the prettiest little stuttered noises as she falls apart. When she’s spent at last, she sags back to the bed, pushing at his forehead with a trembling hand.

“Force,” she says as Kylo wipes his mouth on his arm and crawls back up her body. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes dazed. “That was incredible.” He grins, proud of himself. The expression catches her attention, and she looks at him with awe. “You smiled,” she says softly. “I’ve never seen you smile.”

Kylo’s heart does another weird clenching thing. He wonders if it’s the feeling of wounds being repaired, if perhaps she is stitching the gashes of heartbreak closed with each word, touch, and kiss.

“That’s because I never smile,” he says. His throat feels raw from the confessions he’s made tonight. “I’ve never had anything to smile about… until you.”

“Oh, Ben.” Her eyes sparkle with tears again, and she wraps her arms around him, tugging him closer. Her breasts press against his chest, and he’s very aware of the wet brush of her pubic hair against his straining erection. She kisses his neck. “I want you now,” she whispers. “All of you.”

He looks down at her, hardly daring to believe it. “You do?” he breathes. “Are you sure?”

She nods. “I have an implant,” she says, showing him a tiny scar on her arm. “If that’s something that worries you. I just… I want this. We’re starting something today. You and me.”

“Us.” He likes the way the word sounds and how it feels in his mouth. He swallows hard. “I want it, too.”

She beams, and he returns the expression, feeling dizzy and giddy and afraid in the best possible way. He reaches between their bodies, trying to angle his cock against her entrance, but it’s tricky. Luckily, she’s there to help, wrapping her hand around his and guiding him into position.

He starts pushing, and they both gasp as her pussy swallows the tip of him. The fit is tight, so tight, but her flesh is parting around him, somehow accepting his length. There’s a moment of resistance, and Kylo pauses, but Rey grips his ass and tugs, forcing him through it. She winces, then relaxes.

“Was that—”

She nods and tilts her chin up to kiss him. “There’s only ever been you.”

“Me, too,” he whispers as his eyes prickle. “I’m honored you chose me.” He still doesn’t understand why she chose him, but at this point, it doesn’t matter. He’s going to make it good for her, going to love her the way she deserves.

“Same.” She wraps her arms and legs around him. “Make love to me, Ben.”

He sinks in the last few inches, then stills, focusing on his breathing until he has himself under control. This is paradise, from the tight clasp of her body to the trust in her eyes. He pulls out, a long, slow drag, then thrusts back in, and he swears he sees stars, a whole galaxy of pleasure and possibility behind his eyes.

They move together, awkward at first, feeling their way through this primal act. Soon, though, everything falls into place, and Rey echoes each of Kylo’s movements until they’re rocking in perfect tandem. It has the same ease as when they fought together in the Throne Room; Kylo senses her intentions and needs and matches his movements to them.

“I love you,” he blurts out, and then his eyes go wide in horror. “Sorry, that was too soon, too intense—”

She presses her fingers against his lips, stopping the apology. He didn't think her smile could get more radiant, but somehow, it does. “I love you, too.”

Joy explodes in Kylo’s chest like a supernova. His ears ring, and his pulse races with frantic glee. For one moment, time itself stops. Everything goes quiet. Outside, shooting stars hover and planets pause in their orbits. Even gravity takes a break from its constant work. Then everything speeds up again, and sound comes roaring back in, and Kylo realizes gravity is working just fine—he’s just Force levitating everything in the chamber out of excitement.

He sobs and kisses Rey, then can’t stop. As his body works over and inside her in an increasingly frantic rhythm, his lips remain glued to hers. He worships her with every part of him, mouth and hands and heart and body and soul. “Thank you.” He whispers his gratitude into her mouth, wishing she could taste it. “Thank you.”

He comes then, a pulsing, jerking, wild explosion of pleasure that rips him apart and reassembles him. When it’s over, he feels like a new man.

He gently pulls out of Rey and settles on his side next to her, then reaches down to her clit and rubs in firm circles. “Come for me, sweetheart,” he says, staring down at her pleasure-hazed eyes. “Let go.”

She cries out, and then it’s her turn to shake and shiver. He only lets up when she pushes his hand away.

Kylo isn’t sure what to do next, but Rey solves the dilemma by pushing him onto his back, then slinging a leg and arm over him, resting her head on his shoulder. She mouths against his skin, either kissing him or whispering secrets to his heart.

Lethargy overtakes him, and he finds himself sinking towards slumber. He doesn’t want to close his eyes, doesn’t want to miss a single moment with Rey, but he hasn’t slept well in a long time, and his body is shutting down, whether he likes it or not.

“Ben,” Rey says softly.

“Hmmm?”

She kisses his chest again. “That was wonderful. And I want to make sure… Well, there’s a possibility the bond will close and I won’t be here when you wake up.”

Kylo squeezes her tighter. “Please don’t leave.”

“I don’t want to.” He can hear how much in her voice, feel it across the Force bond. “But if it happens… promise me you’ll come to me. Promise you’ll believe me.”

“I will,” he says. “But where will I find you?”

“How about Naboo?”

He pauses, considering the suggestion. There’s a lot of baggage associated with Naboo. It’s beautiful, but it belongs to the memory of his grandfather and grandmother. “No,” he says at last. “You said we should be nothing and no one. If we’re going to do that…”

“It has to be somewhere without any connection to your family,” she finishes. “Good point. Then… what about something like Yavin 4? I know it was a Rebel base back in the day, but it’s supposed to be a nice place. There’s a Force-sensitive tree, and I really want to go somewhere with trees.” He can feel her make a face against his chest. “I’m tired of deserts and starships.”

“Yavin 4 sounds good.” He strokes her back. “Just… please be there, Rey. Promise me you’ll be there.”

“I will,” she says. “I promise.”

\-------

Kylo wakes up alone.

The bedsheets are rumpled, and the air still smells like sex. When he rests his hand on the sheets, he can feel the faintest remnant of Rey’s body heat.

Despair threatens to wash over him. She left, after everything. All he wanted was to wake up next to her, and she's gone.

Then he remembers the promise he made. _ Promise you’ll come to me. Promise you’ll believe me. _

He has no proof she’ll actually meet him. No reason to believe anyone would choose him, after a lifetime of hurt and abandonment.

Hope is a resilient weed, though. It springs up in the rockiest terrain, its roots digging into the stone and soil, determined to thrive.

Kylo’s hope is small and fragile, and yet it grows.

He packs a bag, boards his personal shuttle, and sets a course for Yavin 4.

\-------

_Is there another world for this frail dust_  
_To warm with life and be itself again?_  
_Something about me daily speaks there must,_  
_And why should instinct nourish hopes in vain?_  
_'Tis nature's prophesy that such will be,_  
_And everything seems struggling to explain_  
_The close sealed volume of its mystery._  
_Time wandering onward keeps its usual pace_  
_As seeming anxious of eternity,_  
_To meet that calm and find a resting place._  
_E'en the small violet feels a future power_  
_And waits each year renewing blooms to bring,_  
_And surely man is no inferior flower_  
_To die unworthy of a second spring?_

**Author's Note:**

> The first poem is "Alone" by Edgar Allan Poe. The second is "The Instinct of Hope" by John Clare.


End file.
